Forgotten Times D4 [open]

Lilia was pleasantly surprised with how much she could enjoy a day away from the sea. There were too many fishermen by the beach today, so there was no way she could go swimming without getting yelled at or whacked by a boat. But the PE teachers at school insisted that she could probably be a good climber if she tried- the muscles used in swimming and climbing were similar apparently. And aside from her tunic getting caught a few times, and the occasional crack of a branch she gotten by well. She was more comfortable 80 feet below sea level than 40 feet above, but it gave her the same feeling, the same options. More, in a way, merely because she didn't have to keep her oxygen supply under supervision. She could clear her mind until it was empty, or focus it on the details of the world, or just let it wander through the world in whatever book she'd just read. Of course, nothing could replace swimming for her, but it was a good substitute for days when it was too stormy or when the fishermen were too active to swim.

She was squatting on a branch about twenty feet above the ground. Her eyes were closed and she let the wind rush through her hair, tangling it but giving her the most unbelievable feeling of freedom. The sound of the cold air filled her head, sending her thoughts tumbling into an unknown order that meant she didn't have to think, only had to dream. In the large satchel on her back was a supply of hemp. Her father had received one of his huge orders from one of the net makers, and he was running out of time to make it all. So if she wasn't going to be swimming all afternoon, would she please not mind being a lamb doing some work for her darling over worked father? She loved her father dearly, but she would honestly rather be a fisherman or boat maker than weave ropes, merely because it meant being stuck in a musty room all day and trying not to get breathing problems from all the musty materials. Plus, if she was going to do something that meant spending time indoors, she wanted to do something intellectual. She certainly had the brains; she'd been told she could be bumped up a year anytime she asked. But she barely had any friends, and while she was willing to make them, she had a much smaller chance among people older than her.

Sitting weaving ropes was quite therapeutic, but the air was growing colder and so Lilia began to climb some more trying to warm up. Mounting the tree, she climbed another twenty odd feet over a decent amount of time for a newbie climber. But it was no use. It was nice and warm on the ground among the bushes, so half climbed half fell to about fifteen feet above the ground and jumped down to earth with a small thud and stepped through the bushes. A sudden, rustling sound alerted her to someone else in the vicinity. Frowning, she started towards the sound. A silver knife fell from the tree. She heard a voice saying "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Hello?" Lilia said as she started more carefully towards the knife and the voice. But nothing else fell from the tree, so she picked up the knife and glanced up.

Crouching on a branch was a girl, around sixteen she guessed, with auburn hair and light coloured eyes. She was oddly pale for as outdoor a district as Four. "Did you drop this?" Not wanting to be on the ground with someone, because that generally meant a conversation, she instead stuck the knife between her teeth. She was used to holding things like this from when fishermen dropped various objects into the water. Sometimes they did appreciate her presence, since good knives could be quite expensive to replace. Of course, swimming doesn't involve the possibility that the knife falls and cuts your hand. Movement through water was too slow for that. Careful not to jolt the knife from her mouth, she climbed to the branch next to the girl and held out the knife.

Actions 93AB74
Thoughts 4C612D
Speech 5C552A
Others Speech 81A150

“Hello?” a young female voice replied. Rhymer watched the bushes intensely, her heartbeat quickened, not knowing if the girl who the voice belonged to would be cross with Rhymer or not. Paranoid, Rhymer looked over her shoulder a few times before going back to staring at the now still shrubs. She peeked down over her legs that dangled off the branch to where she knife dropped, wondering if she could jump down to regain her knife, before anyone appeared, but what she found was a dark haired girl, around fourteen years old. The girl, who had carefully appeared from the bushes when Rhymer was unfocused, was now holding her knife in her gold-toned hands.

Rhymer’s face grew slightly fretful; however, she was immediately thankful the stranger had not run away with her dagger. Nonetheless, the girl still had time sprint for the bushes, knife in hand, at any moment if she wanted to. Rhymer knew that she would not be able to catch her if she tried. After moments of reflection about the circumstances, Rhymer looked back down towards the girl, and saw that she had peered up towards the trees, “Did you drop this?” the stranger asked, their eyes locking.

“Yes,” Rhymer said softly, her voice barely audible over the morning sounds of robins and blue jays as they scavenged the far off ground for food. The sun was now high in the cloudless sky, embracing her skin in warmth.

Seemingly satisfied with Rhymer’s response, the new arrival placed the knife cautiously amid her jaws and began to swiftly climb the tree. She was certainly in shape, and looked to be an impeccable climber. Moreover, Rhymer respected her sureness with the decision of returning an unfamiliar person knife. She seems like a trustworthy person, Rhymer supposed.

When the girl had reached the branch Rhymer sat on, she held out the dagger for her to take. Accepting it gratefully and with a smile, Rhymer built up the nerve to express gratitude. “Thank you, very much and I apologise if I had bothered you at all--” Rhymer trailed off, as she examined her prized position, and then attached it back to her thigh once again. She tried her best to seem polite, something her mother always had to remind her to be. “My father had given me this knife,” she whispered, rambling off topic, uncertain if the stranger was interested in her thoughts.

Pushing back her hair and taking a deep breath, she turned to face the girl. Since most of the time, she avoided meeting new people, or being social at all, Rhymer found it difficult to introduce herself or to talk to most people. However, the stranger gave the impression of seeming unpretentious and kind, something rarely found in most of society today. She tightened her grip on the tree branch, not wanting to fall out of it, just as the dagger had.

Suddenly, Rhymer heard a whistle from above her, she looked up, perched on a branch a few feet above is a boy, appearing to be about the same age as Rhymer. He has tanned skin and blond hair, but it’s his two different colored eyes that are the most stunning, Rhymer decides. Have I seen him before? I must have..

Smoothly, he climbed down towards the two. Smiling, he asks, “What are you doing here? And what’s your name?”

Rhymer looked towards her hands, and then back up at the boy, “I used to come here when I was younger,” she answers his first question, and then continues to tell him her name, “My name’s Rhymer,” she smiles reservedly, looking between the boy and the girl, who sits on either side of her. “What are your names?” she inquires, referring to both of them.